Spicy Hockey Books Novels & Stories

My hand stops. My pen hovers above the blank notebook. I have heard Eli speak dozens of times. Heated exchanges across study tables. Clipped words in hallways. The controlled precision he uses when he has decided to say something and means all of it. I have never heard him sound like this. Hockey has its own kind of music. The percussion of blades against ice, the crack of a stick finding a puck at the right angle. Beautiful in a kinetic, physical way. This is something else.

“Nah, it can be that bad. I have friends who’ve broken their arms and busted their knees from a hard fall on the ice.” Now Ryder was the one hissing and wincing. “Yeah, we men can be so brutal at times.” I inwardly scoffed. Men. The way he said it made them sound like middle-aged dads discussing life experience. These guys were barely even in their twenties. “Alright alright,” Ryder conceded. “So hockey is a no-go. If you don’t like rough sports, then what are you into?” “Chess. Golf.” Clint took another bite of his muffin. “Indoor games that don’t require you to get body-checked into another dimension and also guarantee my safety.”

I switched back to looking over more interviews of his, hoping that a few answers would pop up on the matter. Instead, I saw something more provocative. With each interview, I saw that he’d once been so spontaneous, but had matured as the years went on. He seemed to really love hockey beyond something he did in his spare time. In one video, the interviewer asked him a more personal question. The man asked him what his favorite activity was, and I grabbed my pen and notepad in preparation.

Expect: ❄️ hockey rivalry 🐺 possessive alpha energy 🖤 forced proximity ❄️ locker room tension 🐺 secrets that can ruin everything 🖤 emotional damage ❄️ hate that slowly turns into something much more dangerous 🌶️Spicy smut Noel thought hiding the truth would keep him safe. He was wrong. please note, it's a slow burn romance but I promise it will worth your time and of course good smut🌶️🌶️🌶️ Leave a comment if you're ready to get marked on ice🧊

It worked out great, actually. Mom would order my favorite pizza (ham, pepperoni, sausage, extra cheese), either a six pack of Corona or just Coca-Cola in those 6 ½ ounce bottles. And while we watched my favorite college team play, she would drape her still shapely legs over me, and let me do her toe nails. Her feet were still gorgeous, and I found nothing more satisfying than to blow the nails dry, and kiss them top and bottom.

PUCK OBSESSION (A Dark Hockey Romance) BOOK 6 Intro; People think being obsessed with a hockey player means posters, jerseys, and screaming in packed arenas. But For Kieran Vey, obsession looks different. It looks like memorizing the rhythm of his skates against ice, learning the exact second his jaw tightens before a fight breaks out on the rink, watching interviews frame by frame just to catch the rare moments when NHL golden boy Bryan Calloway looks genuinely angry instead of media-trained perfection.

There were tons of students who were reading this book in high school, it was mandatory freshman year. “What, does that shock you?” he asked with a grin. “Kind of, yes.” He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be so blunt about it. Just because I’m a dumb jock, doesn’t mean I don’t like doing things other than playing hockey.” I hated that I felt a little bad, he did have a point. “Sorry, that isn’t what I meant,” I muttered. He pulled up a chair and sat down backward on it next to me.

By‍ Monday morning, Camero‌n Hayes w⁠as trending for reasons that ha‍d nothing to do with hockey. ‘#Came‌naScandal’ sa⁠t at the t‍op of every sport⁠s blog'⁠s fe‍ed, the parking lot kiss dissected f⁠ra⁠me‌ by fr⁠ame, paired now with older photos someone had d‌ug up, the rink, the team dinner,‍ months of moments ne⁠ither of them had rea‍lized were being documented. A ta‍bloid ran the‌ headline ‘HOCK‌EY'‌S⁠ GOLDEN BOY'S FORBIDDEN STEPSISTER RO⁠MANCE⁠’, and it spread faster than anything Lena had eve‌r se‌en move⁠ online.

"Well, from what I'm hearing, you're in the game tomorrow, and since you don't know a thing about hockey, I figured we could use this power outage to study something fun for once." "What's that?" I asked, trying to peer at the book in his lap from where I was sitting. Adrien grinned, flipping a few pages as if it were a magazine. "Hockey for Dummies," he said with a wink. "Thought it might be useful for you, seeing as you've missed a couple of practices." I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess. So, what are we studying tonight? Penalty shots and checking?"

Sinclair watching us lazily from his seat on the couch, his protruded cock still bobbing as he puffed on his cigar. His eyes met mine and he smirked. Something about how sensual it was made my stomach tickle. He crushed the butt of his cigar on the ashtray, still holding my gaze. He poured whiskey slowly into a glass cup, and my eyes flickered his fingers closed round the glass as he swirled the liquid slowly, and brought it to his lips. When I looked up, his eyes were still holding mine down, black with lust. His gaze flickered down to my breasts, and my stomach kicked when he bit his lips.